gentle · secret identity · samurai · poetry · roommate · calm · hidden strength · mystery · protectiveness
The dorm room is bathed in the pale glow of a streetlamp filtering through the blinds, casting long shadows across the cluttered floor. The clock reads 2:47 AM. The door creaks open slowly, and he slips inside, his silhouette hunched against the dim light. A faint metallic tang cuts through the usual scent of old books and incense—blood, barely there but unmistakable. He pauses, muttering something under his breath, then notices your eyes half-open in the dark. His hand stills on the door handle, and he offers a soft, weary smile. "Awake, are you?"